


This Here Salmon Guy

by AnnEllspethRaven, SonaBeanSidhe



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fish, Fluff and Humor, Modern Era, Pike's Market, Seattle, Vacation, socially inept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25723243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnEllspethRaven/pseuds/AnnEllspethRaven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonaBeanSidhe/pseuds/SonaBeanSidhe
Summary: Inspired by watching the following video footage from Pike's Market in Seattle, Washington USA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbtsfyrEF_cWritten for Back to Middle Earth Month 2020 better late than never!Prompts: Struck By Fish and Inadequate Social SkillsAn offshoot of the fanfic “At the Edge of Lasg’len” without being an actual part of the story. It is an imaginary adjunct to the Pacific Northwest vacation described in chapters 100-104.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	This Here Salmon Guy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At the Edge of Lasg'len](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899862) by [AnnEllspethRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnEllspethRaven/pseuds/AnnEllspethRaven), [SonaBeanSidhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonaBeanSidhe/pseuds/SonaBeanSidhe). 



“The bus was an incredibly good idea,” Earlene murmured. Parking in NYC was why the universe invented the Taxi cab and while obviously Seattle was nowhere near the size or density, like hell would she want to have to find parking in this zoo. Their girls snoozed in the warmth of the interior and the lulling noises of travel which made a kind of sense. All these modes of transport were one long soporific to those not driving. Soon enough they’d be somewhere to really get out but Sharley said this Pike’s Place was more Farmer’s Market and less kid friendly. Dragging five exhausted toddlers past stalls of brightly colored enticements seemed...foolish, as opposed to bringing them treats in bags they could happily discover later on and share with Lothiriel, Maerwen and Orpherion.

But then there was the larger toddler… to his credit, Thanadir did not have his hands on the glass or his nose pressed against the window but from the moment he had seen the Space Needle he had more or less been enraptured by this peculiar city that looked ready to slide into the sea.

“Driving in Seattle can be a nightmare if you’re not familiar with the city,” Sharley said. As usual, there was something of a breeze, and it stirred through her ponytail. “So many one-way streets, and it seems like for no good reason. Then again, they did the Denny regrade just because they could, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” The salt-scent of the air surrounded them, a touch chill even in the sunshine.

“The what?” Ratiri asked. 

“The Denny regrade. Seattle started as a logging town back in the eighteen hundreds, and over the years they actually did a number of regrades,” she said. “What we’re driving on right now was once water — they took huge amounts of earth off of the hills and dumped it down here, to extend the shore.”

“Everyone!” Thranduil announced softly but authoritatively. “The bus will be picking us up outside the Pike’s Market sign in one hour, fifteen minutes. We will be together and ready to fly though the open doors for our driver, yes? For he cannot wait for us; it will not be a sanctioned stop.” 

Every adult departing acknowledged they had heard him, and fiddled with their phones or...whatever they needed to do.

Lorna eyed the street. The ground looked solid enough, though she wondered just how much dirt it had actually taken — and how long. “They did it just because they could?”

“Pretty much. Because that’s Seattle for you. I wish there was time to make reservations to go eat at the top of the Space Needle, but I’ve heard it’s overpriced.” Sharley had always thought the Space Needle looked more like a spaceship on a stick, but that was probably the point.

“There is food up there?” Thanadir asked, his soulful eyes suddenly quite observant of those participating in the discussion. “Really?”

“Yes, but it’s overpriced and we don't have reservations,” Sharley said. “There’s better food to be had in the Market, including lots of candy.” Never let it be said that she didn't pay attention, or that she was above shameless manipulation.

“Oh. Okay,” Thanadir smiled, carefully adjusting the light beanie that would cover the tips of his ears flawlessly but unfortunately only added to the overall effect of his falsely youthful appearance. 

_Eighteen thousand going on twenty-three. Maybe,_ Earlene grimaced, but there was nothing to be done about it. Then, it happened. “Pierogis!” he whispered, eyes large as saucers when the bus passed the shops on 1st Ave. “Crumpets!” he whimpered.

“Why don’t we go for a short walk, and we can get you all of those things, meldir? Pierogis would be good for snacks for the children, we could make them into small pieces and they can all share,” Earlene suggested.

 _You mean, share if he does not eat all of them,_ Thranduil smirked.

 _Just for that I will get him extra._ Earlene flashed him a beaming smile the polar opposite of her acidic words, and Thranduil was reminded not for the last time that being a smartass was not always in his best interest. Eru he wanted off this bus. Two minutes later his wish was granted.

Sharley silently wondered what they’d make of the flying fish, and deliberately refused to warn anyone. It was something of a strange tradition, but tradition it was.

“It smells like home,” Lorna mused. “Salt and brine and kind’v like exhaust.”

“I’d imagine that’s every coastal city in the world,” Ratiri said.

The adults somewhat gratefully broke into smaller groups, and Earlene unconcernedly went with Thanadir to care for his stomach, knowing that the world would reorient itself sooner once his hunger was attended to. Food was one matter, novel food another, and when both of the former could add ‘renowned’ and ‘really tasty’ to the adjectival list the result would be one extremely happy Elf. Prepared, Earlene had one decently large shoulder bag for the sweet and savory pastries purchased for the others and ushered him into Piroshky Piroshky. Very soon after conferring with her at the display cases, Thanadir had three treats together wrapped in papers, held up something like a waffle cone so he could manage them. While Earlene paid Thanadir stood out of the way, rapturously taking a bite out of each one in turn. This might not have mattered had he not visibly ordered ham with cheese, apple, and chocolate. While he was not savaging his food, neither could it be called leisurely consumption. Half those waiting in line were sympathetic mothers convinced by his behavior and slender form that he had not eaten today. One whispered to her little girl, who walked up to him offering up a spinach with cheese. To Earlene’s horror while she had her back turned, a child piped, “Here, mister. Don’t be hungry.”

Thanadir, not really understanding, thanked her profusely and bit into it with relish. Something just then caused him to step outside which...Earlene cleared her throat and thanked the woman for her kindness (and reimbursed her) but explained he was not homeless. Somewhere in the hushed babble ‘inadequate social skills’ was mentioned, whereupon she felt like a complete traitor but what else she was to say? Blessedly, he had eaten all but the last one already and wore a delighted smile. What could compel her to criticize him and ruin that happiness had probably not been created. Tall Ratiri and Thranduil stood out easily only a half-block ahead, so they wove though the other pedestrians to catch up.

Lorna and Ratiri had done their own food shopping — in their case, pastries from Le Panier, an intriguing little bakery. Somehow, bakeries in America seemed different from those in Ireland in some purely indefinable way, though they all certainly smelled the same. Lorna had brought Pat a few flaky scones with a kind of chocolate filling, and just reminded herself that it was not actually chocolate _sauce._

The sun shone bright and fierce, and the soft lap of water against wood could be heard, even though the water itself was obscured in this area by a long row of vendors. Ratiri had been drawn to one by the tinkle of wind chimes, and he’d spent probably far too much money on one wrought to look like tribal art of an orca. He’d hoped to see the real thing, but Sharley had told him they were very rarely seen in Puget Sound anymore, though once upon a time there had been two groups. 

Saoirse had not wanted to stay in the bus, and she’d scurried after him. “Uncle Ratiri, Aunt Sharley says orcas sometimes kill great white sharks for fun,” she said. “I mean, they eat them too, but sometimes they just do it for shits and giggles. It’s why they’re called _killer_ whales.”

That sounded so absurd that he was actually tempted to believe it. Certainly the animals were large enough.

“Jesus, you don't think’v whales as predators for anything _that_ big,” Lorna mused. She knew that different species ate plankton or fish, but sharks? Really?

Thanadir said nothing, but Earlene noticed that he observed their baked goods with interest. God help them, that meant he still had room. Alright, there had to be something else they would run across. How anyone could eat for pierogis and still be upright was beyond her, but at least he no longer had that hollowed-out expression. Quietly, she tried to distract him a little apart from the others, explaining that they were walking atop another city, and that Seattle was in fact one of the more interesting engineering disaster-salvages (the salvage part depended upon whose opinion one was reading or hearing) in existence for a major metropolitan area. She brought him out to show him the [ purple glass ](http://seattleglassonline.blogspot.com/2010/05/abj-seattle-glass-online-on-temporary.html) embedded in the sidewalks and explained their connection to the giant miscalculation of more than a century ago when the residents found they had not built their city high enough above the level of Puget Sound to allow for proper drainage.

“There’s all kinds of stores down below,” Sharley said, eying the somewhat chilly Lorna. “Thanadir, there’s comics and candy, and Earlene, there’s some kitchen stuff. There’s also clothes and jewelry and a store that sells nothing but purple things.”

“Seriously?” Saoirse asked. She was all over the idea of more candy, but something that was wholly purple was pretty intriguing as well.

“Seriously,” Sharley said. “Seattle is...well, it’s unique, and the Market is even more unique. Lorna, there’s a shop that does lavender everything, too.”

“You know, it’s still surreal, being able to go on holiday and actually buy things,” Lorna said. “I keep forgetting I can actually do that now.”

“Just keep in mind, we have to haul it all home,” Ratiri said. “Though anything we eat will stay here, in a manner of speaking.”

“I suggest we allow exactly one hour before we need to be back at the bus,” Thranduil suggested, knowing that between ‘candy’ and ‘kitchen stuff’ he had lost his wife and seneschal. “Otherwise we might as well enjoy ourselves. I will take it upon myself to make sure that I buy fruit and a few other snacks for the rest of the evening. Maybe Ratiri might help me ensure I do not make a disaster of that. Meluiel, may I carry your bag, for that?”

“Of course.” Earlene handed it over, never removing her arm from Thanadir’s, lest there be any doubt as to her ability to seek out contraband in the alloted time.

“And I will let Fun Size here drag me around the shops,” Sharley added.

“I want to go to that lavender place. And I want to see the store that sells nothing but purple.”

“Me too,” Saoirse said. “I wonder why nobody’s made anything like that in Ireland.”

“To be fair, allanah, we don't know that they haven’t,” Pat pointed out. “I’m going to the comic store, whether anyone’s going with me or not.”

Ratiri did not actually roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “Yes, Thranduil, I’ll help, but I can’t promise I’ll understand everything myself. I thought I understood America, but evidently I do not.”

Sharley patted his shoulder. “Oh, you do,” she said, “but there’s America, and then there’s Seattle.”

“The apples are still apples, are they not?” the Elf asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not just apples, but the best apples,” Sharley said. “However, they’re all gonna be overpriced. Last time I was here with Marty, somebody was actually selling Rainier cherries for _twenty-two bucks a pound_. I thought that was outright robbery, until Sinsemilla pointed out it’s not robbery if people are gullible enough to cough up their money willingly.”

 _“Well, it’s true,”_ the voice said. _“They didn't know any better, but anybody who’d spend that kinda money on a bag of cherries has too much money on their hands.”_

“I still do not know the currency prices here very well but from the manner of your speech I already have the feeling my wife would be displeased if I paid that price for the fruit for no reason,” Thranduil said humbly.

“We are on vacation,” Earlene declared flatly. “If you want the cherries, buy the cherries. Time’s a’ wastin’.” With that, she tugged Thanadir gently but firmly after her toward the stairwell to the lower floor. He beamed, and wiggled his fingers at Thranduil waving good-bye.

The King sighed.

“Look at it this way,” Ratiri said, as his wife and brother-in-law scooted off as well, “he won’t have time to eat his entire body weight in candy, because Earlene will drag him off to the kitchenware shop.” He wanted a look at the comic shop himself, but that would have to wait until they’d been responsible, because someone had to be, and apparently it was himself and Thranduil.

**

The lavender store was exactly as advertised, only more so. There were a few things Lorna would never have thought one could make from lavender — lavender salt. Lavender _seafood rub_ , which did not sound remotely appealing. 

“Who came up with that, and what were they smoking?” she whispered to Sharley. The shop was crowded enough — and thus loud enough — that she wasn’t likely to be overheard.

Sharley arched an eyebrow. “It’s Seattle, Lorna,” she said. “What d’you think they were smoking?”

“...Okay, fair point.” Maybe she went a bit nuts, but there were so many things — not just obvious stuff like soap and lotion, but tea, lip balm, _beard oil_...she wished she knew someone who actually wore a beard. In the end, she bought one of almost everything, including the seafood rub — sure, it sounded gross, but now she had to try it or she’d always wonder.

Of course there was a line, but that just gave Lorna a chance to actually get her money in order (and calculate sales tax on her mobile, because America was insane and didn't include that in the price).

“Lovely shop you’ve got here,” she said, when she was finally able to pile all her things on the counter. “I wish I had time to get the story behind the salt and the seafood scrub, but I’m trying the latter anyway.”

The cashier, a blonde girl of maybe eighteen, froze momentarily, and Sharley smothered a laugh. If the poor girl caught more than one word in three, Sharley would be very surprised — but, given this was Seattle, she was hardly about to let on. “I hope you enjoy it,” she said, mostly smoothly. She needed a few more years of practice under her belt before she could pretend, with true success, that she understood everything perfectly. 

**

“I didn't think everything would _actually_ be purple.” Saoirse was quite mesmerized by the purple store, and Pat had to admit that it was a bit more interesting than he had expected (though even he thought the purple shag chair was tacky).

There was far too much in there for him to actually take in all at once, but his daughter was like a hummingbird, and flitted here and there until she found something she absolutely had to have: a doormat with “fear the purple” written across it in white, artificially worn lettering. “Da, I want it. It makes no sense.”

Indeed it did not, and while Pat personally thought thirty-five dollars was a bit steep, they were on holiday. He himself couldn’t resist the purple tea kettle — yes, they had a kettle at home, but it wasn’t purple. Earlene could shoot him for it if she felt like, though he doubted she would. The more kettles one had, the more tea one could make.

**

“Behold, Thanadir. ‘Sweeties Candy Shop.’ No, it is not the place in Times Square. But. Do you see the lollipops?”

“The what?” he asked, until he recalled _Willie Wonka_. “Do you mean those, on the rack?”

“Yes, exactly. This shop has many of what are now known as nostalgia candies, because they are the candies common to more than forty years ago. Frankly, like lollipops. No one really has those anymore, which is why we are going to start there. Chemically laden food coloring that will turn your mouth colors and everything.”

“We are? It will?” he echoed. Clearly his voice held more excitement than worry, for these were the sorts of things no one had ever done for him before. The sorts of things poor children could never have. Like Charlie in the movie, who he had understood very well though he had said nothing.

“Yes.” First she held up one of the largest lollipops, then thought better of it and added a twizzle stick since those were far better to walk around with (and hide before the children saw it). As an afterthought, everyone got a twizzle stick because...novelties needed to be shared. There were jelly beans and Smarties, Bits O’ Honey and oversize chocolate bars, mints and caramels, sour gummies and other examples of general irresponsibility and when they were done there was a chocolatier a few doors down. And what others thought of them holding hands while he happily worked on a twizzle stick of impressive dimensions she really could not care. At least one very attractive young man licked his lips and Earlene gave him the Glare of Death until he thought better of it. At any other time that might have gone a little differently but right now? Hell no.

The kitchen gadgets store was indeed charming, and she found a set of maple, oak and beech leaf cookie cutters on the clearance shelf (in graduated threesomes) and was beyond thrilled. Next they found a shop selling assorted artisan crafts; Earlene purchased a set of forged tavern puzzles for all of them back home and then it was time to head back upstairs with their treasures.

**

“We can probably wait for them here,” Earlene said, though her words went essentially unheard. Earlene explained to Thanadir that the point of these wrought steel puzzles was to remove the ring from the rest of the metal and that yes, it was possible (which is why it was dubbed a [ puzzle ](https://www.seriouspuzzles.com/freedoms-ring-group-8-tavern-puzzle/)). With that, she had lost him.

There were other little stalls to see but what had her attention a little more was the Italian delicatessen right there at the corner...Valar, did they have any mortadella? And Thanadir would flip for those amaretti cookies… distracted and unthinking, Earlene drifted away from him over toward the little shop after ensuring that Thanadir was out of the way of foot traffic. The only thing near was the fish vendor, and it was mid-afternoon. Simple enough. In under five minutes, she had her prizes in another decently large-sized shopping bag and was contentedly nibbling at what had to be a yardlong breadstick. Her eyes sought out Thanadir, and found him; Lorna and Sharley were up ahead and across the way a bit at a honey-seller’s; she waved to all of them and they waved back.

Thanadir, though, kept walking in tiny shuffling steps – sucking on his rainbow twizzle stick, madly manipulating the tavern puzzle in bursts of frenetic motion, and occasionally both at the same time. It was doubtful the outside world existed for him. Too late did Earlene realize that this fish seller was _that_ fish seller. The famous place people came to watch the workers throw entire whole salmon, halibut and cod to each other once the customers had called out for a purchase, and sometimes because they were just plain bored. It... _oh no_ ….

Lorna and Sharley also saw it coming, if Lorna’s expression was any indication, not that anyone was going to do a goddamn thing at that point. The twizzle stick was firmly held between his pursed lips, brow furrowed in concentration on the fussy puzzle, and the full force of what had to be an at least 15 lb Coho salmon hit him full on the side of the head. The lad who had tossed it froze in shock, because there had been no one in the way when the salmon left his arms, he’d been sure of it. The man who was to catch seemed just as horrified; they had _just hit a tourist with a fish for Chrissake_ , this would be all over the Internet and would be sued for...something. There went their umbrella liability insurance, _shit_.

Reflexes that belied his delicate appearance reacted unthinkingly, grasping the fish by the tail and firing it back with unfortunate accuracy at the man who had thrown it, hitting him square in the chest hard enough to knock him backward into a partially stacked display of crabs. “It is not nice to assault people with fish!” he shouted angrily, rainbow twizzle stick waving in one hand and puzzle in the other. “See how you like it!”

Earlene could not get there fast enough, and gratefully saw that Sharley and Lorna were talking to the poor man’s coworker. One of them, anyway; hopefully the other didn’t have a...a fish contusion or...something. _Were fish expensive? That probably had ruined the meat._

“Yeah, he’s...British,” Sharley said, as though that explained anything at all. “They take their fish seriously.”

“Bloody Jesus, mate, you could use that as an actual weapon,” Lorna added. “I mean, a proper one, though maybe we ought to buy it off you — I mean, given it’s probably all manky now. How much is it?”

The man glanced from Sharley to Lorna, and the former could practically _see_ the wheels turning in his head: no, he didn't understand her, but she’d obviously asked him a question just given her tone. His Seattle manners were at war with the fact that this tiny woman was (possibly) a paying customer.

“I think it’s fourteen ninety-nine a pound, right?” Sharley asked, taking pity on the poor man. “We can take it off your hands, since it probably won’t sell now otherwise.”

“Thanadir! It was an accident! He did not mean to hit you, they threw the fish and you walked into it working on the puzzle! It is something they do to entertain the visitors.” Earlene put her hand lightly on his arm, not wanting to make any more of a scene than need be and so best it appear as though they were two people. Talking.

“They throw fish?” He blinked, confused.

“You threw a fish too, love, and you are very strong.”

“But he threw a fish first,” Thanadir frowned. “It was cold, and it smelled like a fish.”

“He did, love, but can you honestly tell me you were minding where you were walking?” Earlene asked softly.

Thanadir sighed. “How much of a mess did I make?”

“Uh, Mister?” A rather loud voice came from behind them at roughly the same time Thranduil and Ratiri scooted forward, trying very hard not to appear overly concerned.

“Do you mean me?” Thanadir asked softly, still holding his twizzle stick.

Thanadir’s lips parted, then pressed together under Earlene’s baleful gaze.

“Er, yeah. We’re really sorry. It was an accident. We want to ask first of all if you are hurt in any way? Do you need help?”

“Hurt? From a fish? I am fine,” Thanadir reassured, remembering that somehow maybe humans could be hurt from fish. Maybe. He would ask Earlene later.

“I am sincerely glad to hear that. On behalf of Pike Place Fish Company we apologize and perhaps we could somehow compensate you for your experience. Some of our products we could offer you? We would be very glad to…”

“We are travelling,” Earlene told him. “Thank you, but it is really not necessar–”

“Are you sure? We would really feel better if you would–”

Thranduil cleared his throat. “Meluiel, Sharley wished to purchase...the fish. That fish. Perhaps that would make everyone happy?”

Earlene felt tense. “We bruised _their_ fish. It was _our_ fault, and just because this is the Sue-Happy States of America does not make us taking advantage of their offer the right thing to do. If Sharley wants the...was that a salmon? Then we are _buying_ the salmon that these people worked for.”

The employee who had tossed the fish in the first place approached as well, now that it appeared no one was angry or threatening legal action. He had lingered back a little, still holding the fish (which he had not dropped either– these things were a matter of professional pride). Clearing his throat, he spoke up. “Coho salmon, ma’am. And sir, I am sincerely sorry for what happened.”

Thanadir turned to him now, seeing the obvious remorse. “I too apologize. I am unaccustomed to being caught unawares. Especially by fish.” The smooth brow furrowed.

Thranduil wondered what his life even was anymore.

“Could you do that again?” the man asked hopefully. “No one ever...you made it look so easy. We practice for weeks before we toss the fish in public.”

“That was pretty awesome,” the other employee agreed enthusiastically. “I mean, if he had a target on him you couldn’t’ve landed that better!”

“Well I…”

“He can throw the fish again if someone gets a weight and we pay you for it,” Earlene insisted, smiling sweetly.

“What she said,” Sharley added. She’d appeared beside Earlene like a blue-haired ghost. “C’mon, it’ll be worth it.” The fact that she had her cell phone ready to record was nobody’s business but her own.

It still didn't seem right to either employee, but they rang it in anyway — at nineteen pounds, it was not a cheap bit of seafood, but it was nevertheless bought and paid for.

The incident had naturally drawn a number of curious onlookers, including a busker bearing a guitar. And once Lorna had spotted him, she simply couldn’t help herself.

She ooched her way through the little throng, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Mate, I will give you a fifty if I can borrow that for a moment,” she said, pointing at his guitar. “Used to do this myself, and inspiration struck.”

He understood enough of her words to hand it over — though the two twenties and a ten she held out no doubt helped. It was all Lorna could do not to cackle as she made sure the instrument was in tune. With a smirk that bordered on unholy, she launched into the opening notes of _American Pie_ , but the lyrics, such as they were, were entirely her own.

_Not so long ago_

_In a market by the Sound_

_There sold a bit’v everything_

_Including seafood by the pound_

_Well, the shop they sold the fish in_

_Had a very strange tradition_

_Heavy salmon did they fling_

Ratiri, not being a stupid man, already had his mobile out, and was bright enough to start recording the moment his wife’s finger’s touched the strings.

_Although they did this every day_

_Now someone was in the way_

_It was an accident_

_Through the air the fish went_

Sharley’s eyebrows shot right up into her bangs, and she somehow choked back a laugh. She’d known Lorna had been a panhandler, once upon a time, but she’d never expected an actual performance. Apparently neither had this crowd, which parted as she made her way over.

Sharley handed the fish to Thanadir, and said, “I guess you’ve got a theme tune now.”

_My, my, watch the salmon fly by_

_Threw it over the enclosure_

_To the tall skinny guy._

_When Cian threw back, he didn't need to try_

_But at least it didn't black someone’s eye_

_I hope it didn't cause a black eye._

Thanadir did the only thing he could do, which was hold out his twizzle stick and tavern puzzle to Earlene, smacking his lips a little. In her peripheral vision she noted (to her immense satisfaction) that Ratiri patted Thranduil gingerly on the shoulder. Whether his hand over his mouth hid a grimace or a smile even she could not tell and either way it mattered not.

“You want me to throw the fish?” he asked. “Yes! To Mike, back there, that’s waving. Can you do that?”

Thanadir stared at Earlene with The Eyes at a solid five until he recalled how much candy she had purchased for him, and saw her little smile of encouragement. His face transformed to a gentle smile and with what seemed like little more than a flick of the wrist the salmon arced straight to Mike (with far more reasonable force).

The entire staff applauded. “Catch it again?”

“Okay.” Overhead it sailed, with the Elf remaining essentially (and worrisomely) motionless until he felt it was necessary to do otherwise, then snatched the fish out of the air by the tail. “I caught it,” he told the man with no pretense whatsoever. Cheers and whistles erupted from all around, with Thanadir surprised and pleased, but...he had caught a fish, not rescued a small child from a burning building for Eru’s sake.

“I tell myself that these are the moments that will allow me to survive immortality with my sanity intact,” Thranduil told Ratiri. “But then I wonder if I really have not, and this is the part where I have already lost my reason.”

“I’ve come to realize that there is a difference between sanity and stuffiness,” Ratiri mused. “You and I are perfectly rational people who are watching people we care about enjoy themselves in a way that’s entertaining and mostly harmless.”

“The worst part is that if our people could see this, right after they were sure he would not censure them they would be cheering the loudest,” Thranduil sighed. “Eh. Why not. We are on vacation. It probably will not go viral on YouTube.”

_Fly high Mr. Salmon Guy_

_The fish traders better cater to this passerby_

_He’s here at Pike’s makin’ Coho sail high_

_Sayin’ ‘want me to catch your supply?’_

_He can catch all you supply._

“Couldja catch two?” they asked from behind the counter enthusiastically, having never seen the like. 

“Wrap the one he has now,” their coworker insisted, gesturing for Thanadir to throw it back. “No fish gets more than four tosses!” 

Sensing that the humans wished for something like performance art, Thanadir faced away from the counter and threw the fish with the same accuracy over his shoulder to more cheers and applause. Then two employees carefully tossed fish at him, really not believing he would manage this except for the obvious ease with which he had already managed. No one built like him should be able to toss around fish over fifteen pounds like they were nothing; most of them worked out and even they couldn’t just lob what amounted to misshapen bowling balls with pinpoint accuracy. Same thing. He snatched them out of the air, but for flair did so with a kind of dance-like motion probably owed to swordfighting.

“Probably there went your last chance of it not going viral,” Ratiri told Thranduil sympathetically. “And...the time?”

The Elvenking sighed at his fish-twirling seneschal. Whose face had transformed momentarily from the praise and adulation before the smile erased, for he had seen Thranduil step forward whilst pointing to the nearby exit. Bowing, he handed the fish back to the employee. And took back his twizzle stick, sucking on it with doe-eyed innocence. Earlene bit her lip and moved him toward the exit before anyone could think anything obscene.

“It’s about time to get the bus,” Sharley said, even as she took their purchased fish, now wrapped in paper. “Now that we’ve given everyone something to talk about.”

Lorna returned the man’s guitar, laughing. “I hope somebody filmed that. I’m trawling YouTube later.”

Everyone boarded the bus, and for a brief time Thanadir quietly alternated between puzzle and twizzle stick. Oddly enough (to his thinking), none of the children wanted a lick, and every other adult on the bus declined to tell him that his lips were stained a ghastly shade of purple. “I liked the song,” he announced.

Thranduil’s head whipped around to stare at Lorna, unblinking.

 _“_ [ _A long long time ago_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xU_ItuwXA4)

_In a galaxy far away_

_Naboo was under an attack_

_And I thought me and Qui-Gon Jinn…”_

A definite twitch set in beneath Thranduil’s lower eyelid. He blamed Lorna, rational or not – her guitar adventure had unleashed one of the worst Weird Al selections in his seneschal’s repertoire.

Next to Thanadir, Earlene had turned away, her face turning red as she struggled not to laugh out loud, because this was Thanadir at his soulful best...and Valar help them, this song was not short. Lothiriel and Ortherion seemed quite pleasantly surprised, give or take they had no idea what Naboo was. Well, or basically any of it, but the tune was catchy.

Lorna did not need telepathy to know what Earlene was about to do; at the exact moment Earlene placed her finger over Thanadir’s lips with an impish grin she sauntered over, and sang (mysteriously, by the first line more than half the bus had joined in including the driver),

_Oh my my, this here Salmon guy_

_May be Vader someday later - now he's just a small fry_

_And he left his home and kissed his mommy goodbye_

_Sayin' "Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi"_

_"Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi"_

Lorna’s shoulders shook with silent laughter when she made her way back to her seat. Yeah, that was just about perfect.

 _I wholly agree...if your idea of perfection is being slapped by a fish. He will not stop for at least two days, you know, and I will blame you_.

Lorna quirked an eyebrow at him. _Just be glad I haven’t taught him the lyrics to the actual song,_ she said. _I still could, you know._

 _The...actual song?_ There was real fear in the tone...he had willed himself to forget that these were parody songs, and he doubted he had heard the originals of even a tenth of them. _Is it really This Here Salmon Guy?_

That made her laugh so hard she nearly cried. _No, it’s not,_ she said, _though that’s going to be a whole new version._

“Mo chroí, do I want to know?”

She grinned at Ratiri. “Probably,” she said, “but someday, everyone might find out.”

Thanadir still sang on, so Thranduil leaned over and whispered conspiratorially to Ratiri, “This Here Salmon Guy,” while gesturing toward their troubadour. 

“It could be worse,” Ratiri whispered back. “He could be singing the real thing. It’s even more of an earworm.”

_You know what? I do not want to know. I will take my chances and keep the fish._

Finally, Thanadir finished and everyone clapped politely. Sitting, he sighed. “I wish there was pie.”

Lorna and Ratiri shrieked with laughter and all the rest of them stared, but especially Thanadir felt especially baffled. “Was it something I said?”

**Author's Note:**

> The meme appeared on the Internet. We don't know where it began, but it had to be here. Sorry not sorry?


End file.
